30 Day OTP Challenge (SFW-version)
by jamesgatz1925
Summary: This one is unrelated to the other, though I don't know maybe it could be related. SFW (safe for work) version.
1. Day 1: Hanging Out With Friends

_**A/N: New 30 Day Challenge! Well, 28 Day Challenge (I couldn't figure out how to write two chapters). I'm mixing up the days to make it all one story instead of one-shots like the last one. This one is SFW (safe for work) but there are, I think, 2 NSFW (not safe for work) chapters. There will be a warning on each chapter. Thanks for reading! Please review!**_

* * *

**Day 1 (Day 9): Hanging Out With Friends**

* * *

"Why are we coming here?" Sherlock asks as they approach the pub.

"You didn't have to come," John tells him. He drops his voice and mutters, "You weren't even invited."

"I heard that."

John sighs.

"Why couldn't you watch this match at home?"

"I wanted to hang out with my friend."

"I'm your friend."

John reaches to open the door for Sherlock. "And you're here. After you."

Sherlock enters the pub before John does and immediately sees Lestrade. He doesn't miss Lestrade's disappointed frown.

They make their way to the table with Lestrade and he stands to greet them.

"Sherlock," he says, "I didn't know you were coming with."

"It was a last minute decision," Sherlock says.

John shakes Lestrade's hand. "So last minute that I got halfway down Baker Street before I even noticed he was behind me."

Lestrade laughs.

Sherlock frowns.

They order beers right as the match is starting, and Lestrade and John get into it quickly. Sherlock silently watches, but hardly pays attention, he just thinks about the current experiment he's working on.

During halftime, John and Lestrade let Sherlock know that their team is losing atrociously, so they may leave early.

"But I am glad you're here, Sherlock," Lestrade says. "Saves me a phone call."

"Oh?"

"Got a new case. Some guy is killing people that turn out to be drug dealers."

Sherlock perks up, clearly more interested. "Oh?"

"We know who it is, the murderer that is, but we think he's working for a larger drug lord who is making him get rid of the competition."

"If you know who the murderer is, have you arrested him?"

"Well…no."

Sherlock raises an eyebrow.

"We've successfully diverted each murder after we figured out who the murder is. We've saved five people."

"So. The case you have for me is…finding the bigger drug lord?"

"Correct."

Sherlock nods. "I'll be at the Yard tomorrow for the files."

"Perfect, Sherlock, thank you."

Sherlock looks at John. "Can we go now?"

"You know," Lestrade says, "You don't have to do everything with John, Sherlock. You can leave at any time."

Sherlock glares at him.

Lestrade sits back and surrenders. "Never mind."

John laughs and pats Sherlock's shoulder. "Stand down. We'll leave soon. Let me finish my beer."

Sherlock nods, appreciative that John's only got half a beer left.

They finally leave a half way through the second half, and Lestrade reminds Sherlock to stop by the Yard in the morning. Sherlock eagerly agrees, then pushes John down the street towards home.

"Seriously Sherlock," John says once they're around the corner from the pub. "You don't have to go with me."

Sherlock stares forward, not bothering to look at John at all. "Yes, I do."

John doesn't say anything more, he just walks next to Sherlock the entire way home.


	2. Day 2: In a Different Clothing Style

**Day 2 (Day 15): In a Different Clothing Style**

* * *

The day after meeting Lestrade at the pub, John eagerly hops up the stairs to home after work. He's excited that they have a new case, if not just for the enjoyment of the case, but because Sherlock has been far too clingy the past few weeks, and this will surely take him off John's hip for at least a little while.

John reaches for the doorknob thinking about that last bit: Sherlock giving him space from now on (for a while). He frowns, suddenly overwhelmed with an emotion he can't quite pinpoint.

Sherlock's company has been...nice, to say the least, if not a bit annoying. Sherlock's been happy (maybe not _happy_) to watch movies, go to the pub, take walks, and do anything else John wants. It's been nice, and John's unsure of if he really wants that to disappear.

_No matter_, he thinks, _in a couple of weeks it'll be back to that same routine._

John opens the door and steps through to their flat, and he's shocked by the sight greeting him. He's seen Sherlock sitting in his chair covered in blood (which was admittedly very scary), he's seen Sherlock sitting in his chair almost completely naked (which was admittedly less scary), but this is new.

There, sitting at his chair, is Sherlock Holmes clad in knee-length khaki shorts and a pale blue short sleeve t-shirt. Not just any old t-shirt, John knows every clothing item Sherlock owns costs no less than thirty pounds, but it's still a t-shirt. And shorts.

"Sherlock..." John says. "What the hell are you wearing?"

Sherlock looks down at himself. "It's nearing the end of June, it's summer. Isn't this what normal people wear?"

John still stares at him. "Okay, why are you trying to dress normal?"

Sherlock stands. "The case, John. I'm undercover."

"As a..." John takes in the outfit again, notices three buttons popped open at the top of the very soft looking t-shirt. He's seen young people wear this shirt. "As a uni student?"

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "As anybody unnoticeable. I've got to follow the murder, track his every move until I have all the data about him that I can."

"Then?"

"Then I'll be able to track abnormal movements. Say he goes to a tennis club every day? Or a gym? What if one day he skips it? Suspicious. What if he likes classical music and suddenly decides to go a rock concert? Suspicious."

"Alright, I see," John says, understanding. "But why do you have to change your clothes for that?"

"To look like everyone else. Surely he'd notice a suit wearing man following him around all day."

John nods. "Sure, sure."

Sherlock rotates his shoulders to pull the shirt lower on his neck. "I don't like this shirt, John."

With the slight adjustment, the shirt falls lower than his collarbone, revealing an amount of skin that John desires to bite.

John shakes his head, wondering where the hell that thought came from. He clears his throat and gathers his normal thoughts again.

"Looks fine," he says.

Sherlock just looks at him. "Uhm...thanks."

John nods. "Do you need me to go with you?"

Sherlock shakes his head. "No, I'll be fine," he says, heading for the door. "I'll be back late."

"Late dinner, then?"

Sherlock nods as he reaches for the doorknob. "Looking forward to it," he mutters, then exits the flat.

John just smiles at himself as he listens to Sherlock descending the stairs and exiting the flat.


	3. Day 3: With Animal Ears

**Day 3 (Day 10): With Animal Ears**

* * *

Three days after that, once Sherlock gathered every bit of data about the murder that he could, John enters the flat entirely more shocked than he's ever been. With one look at Sherlock he notices the obvious: Sherlock's got cat ears on his head. This passes the shorts from a few days ago by a long shot.

"What the hell is that?" he questions.

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "It's for the—"

"Case, yeah, I can't remember the last time you wandered around wearing cat ears and…" John takes note of the rest of Sherlock's outfit: not quite mid-thigh shorts, sheer black tank top, and he can see a cat tail hooked to Sherlock's shorts behind his legs. "Why are you dressed like that?"

"I'm going undercover."

"As?"

"As an older fan of…something or another, I don't know. Our suspect is going to a convention tonight, and no doubt he's going to kill there."

John nods. "Okay. What time?"

"Eight o'clock. And you need to wear this." Sherlock hands John a suit bag.

"A suit?"

Sherlock grins. "Yes, John, a suit."

John only takes the suit and agrees to put it on because of the way Sherlock's shorts ride up the back of his thighs when he walks. After watching mesmerized until Sherlock took a seat at the kitchen table, John finally blinked and went up to his bedroom.


	4. Day 4: Cosplaying

**Day 4 (Day 7): Cosplaying**

* * *

"This is _not _a suit!" John gripes again. He wouldn't be complaining _as much _if they'd gotten a cab. But Sherlock insisted they needed to ride the tube, so here they are.

Sherlock looks at John, examining the suit he's got on. "Yes it is."

"I thought it was a _suit_ suit. Not made of plastic and stretchy crap and…it's really tight, Sherlock!"

Sherlock still stares at John, mesmerized by the very visible rise and fall of John's chest, the very tight material wrapping around his-

Sherlock clears his throat and blinks. He strains to look away. "It looks fine."

"Fine? _Fine_? Sherlock, there's airbrushing around my crotch!"

Sherlock shifts his eyes, but not his head. Definite airbrushed bulge. He looks away quickly to not be caught.

"This material over the 'S' is itchy, to be honest."

Sherlock pays no attention.

"And it's too tight."

Sherlock licks his lips and tries not to look over.

"And these red boots are stupid."

Sherlock opens his mouth to say that the boots aren't that bad, that he could be wearing _booty shorts _for goodness sake.

"And Superman isn't blond!"

Sherlock shuts his mouth. There's no arguing there.

"Once," John says, "Just once. Could you either A, let me pick out my own costume, or B, not make me dress up at all?!"

Sherlock opens his mouth to say something, anything.

"Where did you even get this?!"

This Sherlock knows the answer to. "Online!" he nearly shouts.

"When?!"

"It came in today. I ordered it express shipping."

"Sherlock," John groans. "That must've cost a fortune!"

Sherlock waves a dismissive hand. Without saying anything more, he stands quickly from his seat and steps over to the exit door.

He grins when John doesn't say anything more about money. Usually he would, but John is clearly too distracted by his legs again. He puts a little swagger in his step as he gets to the carriage door.

Sherlock looks back at John. "Coming?"

John licks his lips and looks up at Sherlock's face. "Right behind you."


	5. Day 5: During Morning Routines

**Day 5 (Day 16): During Their Morning Routines  
**

* * *

After the successful diverting of another murder at the convention, and the unsuccessful finding of the murderer's boss, Sherlock announces that the subject is on the move.

"To Paris?!" John questions. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"I am not_ kidding, _John. Here are our tickets." Sherlock holds up two plane tickets.

John frowns. "What if I can't get any time off work?"

"You can, I already called."

John's jaw drops. "I _just _got home. When did you call?"

"While you were at lunch."

John sighs and rubs his forehead. "Please don't do that ever again."

"Why not? It was fine."

John shakes his head. "Forget it. Let me go pack."

"I already did. The car will be here any minute."

John opens his mouth to say something else, to argue about privacy and how inappropriate it is that Sherlock packed for him, but Sherlock turns to walk away before John can say anything.

* * *

"He's going to a party," Sherlock says once they're in their hotel in Paris later that evening. "It's tomorrow. Our tickets will arrive tomorrow afternoon."

"Great," John grumbles.

After taking John to a much deserved dinner, they return to their hotel for bed.

* * *

John wakes before Sherlock, just like he usually does at home. He gathers clean clothes and goes to the bathroom to shower.

He's in the shower not five minutes before there's banging on the door.

"I'm a bit busy!" he calls over the spray.

"How much longer are you going to be?"

John refrains from yelling back to Sherlock something rude. "A while, Sherlock!" he calls instead. "I just got in!"

He doesn't get a reply, and he's pleased that Sherlock left him alone, but a minute later he hears the door swing open.

John quickly covers himself, even though the curtain is closed. "Sherlock!"

"I need to get ready too, John."

"Can't you just wait like you do at home?!"

"I _need _to leave now! I need to make sure the subject is here!"

John sighs. "Alright, just..."

"Don't worry," Sherlock says, "I won't look."

John resumes with washing while listening to Sherlock brush his teeth and wash his face. He can't see Sherlock, but he can still hear him pretty well.

He certainly doesn't miss hearing Sherlock lift the toilet seat.

"I swear to god if you pee right now I will punch you!" John yells through the curtain.

He hears Sherlock sigh dramatically, then slam the toilet seat down.

John laughs as he turns off the shower. "Pass me a towel," he says.

Sherlock's long arm shoves the curtain aside to toss a towel at John.

John laughs again. "Hey!"

"You asked!"

John wraps the towel around himself and steps out of the shower. He sees Sherlock applying shaving cream to his face, then lift the razor.

"Is that mine?!" John cries.

Sherlock doesn't move to put it back or clean his face. "I forgot mine."

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock glares at him through the mirror. "What difference does it make, I use yours all the time!"

John glares back.

"Oh, relax. It's not like I use your toothbrush."

John rolls his eyes and reaches for his toothbrush. He examines it. "I don't believe you."

"Maybe I have used it," Sherlock says as John squirts the toothpaste on. Right when John puts the brush in his mouth, he adds, "To clean my petri dishes."

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock smiles widely and rinses the razor. "I'm kidding!"

"You had better be!" John yells.

Sherlock cups his hand to capture water in the hallow, then tosses the water gathered at John.

John watches the new water splatter on his chest, then he glares up at Sherlock. "What's that supposed to do? I'm already wet."

Sherlock looks further down John's chest, still glistening with shower water. His eyes slowly shift lower, but when John clears his throat he looks up again.

"Done with my razor?" John asks, a slight grin on his lips.

"Oh, uh..." Sherlock looks back at the mirror and finishes with shaving.

He didn't notice that John grabbed the bottle of shaving cream until he hears it. He shifts his eyes to John in the mirror and sees John's arm behind him.

"John!" he cries, darting away. "Wh-" Sherlock turns his back to the mirror and looks over his shoulder, finding a large shaving cream "J" on his back. "John! This is my only sleep shirt!"

John bursts into violent laughter. "That's too bad!"

Sherlock can't help but laugh, caught up in the sound of John's. While John is distracted with laughing, he darts for the can in John's hand.

"Oh, no!" John shouts, pulling the can out of Sherlock's reach.

Sherlock lunges again, but John steps further back.

Instead, Sherlock grows an evil grin and reaches for the toothpaste tube.

"No!" John cries, still laughing. He reaches for it too, but Sherlock grabs the tube before John can.

John steps closer, much closer, and grabs Sherlock's wrist.

"John..." Sherlock warns, eyeing John's finger on the trigger of the shaving cream.

"Sherlock..." John warns back.

Sherlock quickly grabs John's wrist with his free hand, simultaneously pushing himself against John. John pushes too, shoving Sherlock against the sink. They hold onto each other's wrists and watch each other, giggling and trying to glare through amused grins.

"Put it down," John orders.

"You first."

John slowly pulls his hand away from Sherlock's grasp, dwelling on the loss of contact between them. He's still holding Sherlock's wrist, and part of him doesn't want to let go.

Sherlock breaks free and sets the toothpaste tube down.

"Truce?" Sherlock asks.

"Truce," John agrees, stepping back and freeing Sherlock from the sink.

Sherlock pulls his shirt off, mindful of the shaving cream on his back.

John watches, noticing everything from the way Sherlock's muscles move while getting the shirt off to how low his pajama pants are on his hips.

"John."

John shakes his head to snap out of his trance. _What is going on lately?!__ It's just Sherlock! I've seen him naked before!  
_

"I did ask if you wanted to reuse this shaving cream, John."

John strains to chuckle. "No, thanks."

Sherlock just grins, then leaves the room.

_Damn it, _John thinks, then gets to shaving.


	6. Day 6: In Formal Wear

**Day 6 (Day 19): In Formal Wear**

* * *

Once their tickets for the party arrive, they quickly get ready. Since they already took showers, they separate to dress. John takes the bathroom and Sherlock says he'll knock on the door once he's dressed.

Sherlock knocks on the bathroom door while John's buttoning his shirt.

"Ready when you are," Sherlock says through the door.

"Almost," John calls back. "I'm glad this is an actual suit this time!"

He doesn't get any reply from Sherlock, so he finishes with dressing silently.

John steps out of the room two minutes later to see Sherlock adjusting his tie in the full-length mirror hooked to the door.

"Oh," John sighs.

Sherlock turns away to let John out.

John takes his clothes to his suitcase, all the while staring at Sherlock. Sherlock wears suits all the time, obviously, but he never looks this fancy. He never wears ties, not even when he should (to court).

John clears his throat as he watches Sherlock smooth his hair down. "You look…nice."

He doesn't miss Sherlock's quick smile.

"Thanks," Sherlock says.

John doesn't care about the lack of return of compliment. "I was unsure of whether to go with the bowtie or the regular tie, but—"

"The bowtie is good."

John nods. "Good."

Sherlock finally leaves the mirror. "Alright. Ready?"

John stands up straight and smooths his hands down his jacket. "How do I look?" he asks, not fishing for a compliment but simply asking if he looks good enough to attend a fancy dress party.

Sherlock stares at him, then suddenly steps up to him and looms close.

John sucks in a shocked breath when Sherlock's hands approach his face.

But Sherlock quickly diverts his hands and fixes John's bowtie.

"You were crooked," Sherlock explains, then backs away and steps to the door.

"Oh," John says. "Thanks."

Sherlock nods once, then opens the door and steps through.


	7. Day 7: Kissing

**Day 7 (Day 5): Kissing**

* * *

They get downstairs to the ballroom and Sherlock stops at the door. He peeks through before entering.**  
**

"John," Sherlock whispers. "Come here."

John looks over at him, confused. "What?"

"Over here, to me," Sherlock says again. He looks back at John and holds his hand out. "Take my hand."

"For…"

Sherlock lets go of the door and it slowly shuts. "We are undercover. We need to pretend to be together."

"Why?"

"Because it'll be easier to be in with the party full of _couples, _John. Take my hand."

John nervously swallows. "Alright, Sherlock. If you say so."

John takes his hand and Sherlock doesn't waste any time before he emerges from the hall into the large ballroom.

They get to a crowd of people surrounding a table, so they have to split to get passed them. Sherlock gets go of John's hand and instead places his hand at the small of John's back.

"After you," he whispers, just like anyone intimately would.

It makes John shiver. It's clear quickly that he's going to see a different side to Sherlock tonight. That the side he's to see is entirely acting…doesn't quite sit well with John.

They get to the bar and John orders a glass of scotch while Sherlock gets white wine. They step away from the bar and look around for empty seats.

"What's this party for again?" John asks.

"Bankers. Our subject is right over there."

John looks to where Sherlock is pointing and sees their guy, along with his wife.

"His wife is here," John observes.

"Yup."

"And we think he's going to murder someone with his wife here?"

"Who do you think lures the victims out of the room?"

John chokes on his scotch. "You mean she's—"

"Yes, of course. Now, if anyone asks, and they will because we're two men; we met through work two years ago. We haven't gotten married yet, obviously, we don't have rings. We're from London, but we came for the party." Sherlock tells John which bank they 'work' at, and tells him to stay close all night.

"You brought your gun, right?"

John nods.

"Great," Sherlock says, then places his hand on John's back again. "To our seats, then?"

John leads Sherlock over to two empty seats, and two women approach them quickly.

They introduce themselves and the ladies give them name tags, then the women (who are clearly giddy to meet two "gay" men) ask them a million questions about their relationship. The details Sherlock gave John pay off, because they ask the same things they went over.

Finally, the ladies leave, and Sherlock relocates the suspect and his wife.

"So he's an assassin?" John asks.

"Yes. For a drug lord. We need to know who that is."

"Yes, I remember."

"He's mainly located in England, but he's here on assignment. His next victim is in this room."

"How do you know?"

Sherlock looks at him. "Why else would he be here?"

"Oh…"

Sherlock shakes his head and takes a sip of his wine.

"So where is he?" John asks.

"Who?"

"The next victim."

Sherlock looks around. "Well," he says, "Look around. Observe, John. Think. This is a room full of bankers, everyone is paid very, very well. But-"

"But a drug dealer will be making a little bit more, so..."

Sherlock smiles. "Exactly, right, John."

John begins to search for someone who looks just a little bit more well off than their colleagues.

"And he, or she, will be a foreigner."

"How do you know?"

"If they were British, we wouldn't have needed to come to France."

John nods. "Well done."

Sherlock gives him an appreciative smile, then goes on looking through the people.

Their table-mates arrive minutes later and dinner is served. Over dinner, there's a few long speeches given about the company and the employees.

After dinner, they stand to mingle. What they're really doing is staying a few feet behind the suspect as he moves, but the man never notices.

Eventually, the wife of the suspect slips out of the room.

Sherlock leans in close to John. "She's making her move."

"We need to get out of here."

Sherlock looks like he's thinking of a plan, thinking of a way to get them away from the group they're talking to, thinking of a way to get them out of the party early. John notices the murderer looking over towards them, then Sherlock suddenly takes his face and leans in.

John stands completely still as Sherlock's lips meet his.

Sherlock pulls away, his face not even half as stunned as John's is. Then, it's John's turn to start the kiss.

He places a hand on Sherlock's jaw and pulls him in again, this time pushing the kiss a little further. His tongue traces Sherlock's hot bottom lip, seeking Sherlock's even hotter tongue. Sherlock lets him in, letting John pull him closer and closer until they're both battling to control this sweet kiss.

Sherlock pulls away first this time, and he does look stunned. His cheeks are tinged with pink, his eyebrows are furrowed as if trying to figure out a puzzle. He doesn't break eye contact with John, and his face slowly grows softer.

John notices that the murderer is gone.

"Let's get out of here," Sherlock says, loud enough for other people to hear him.

John eagerly nods, stepping back and taking Sherlock's hand.

"See you two later!" a lady from when they first arrived calls to them as they walk out.

Once in the hall, John opens his arms to embrace Sherlock, but Sherlock visibly slips away from the character he was playing in the ballroom with John.

"We need to find them," he says, darting away down the hall.

John frowns, unsure of anything that just happened. It takes him a few more minutes to follow Sherlock, but finally he suppresses his feelings and runs after his flatmate.


	8. Day 8: Arguing

_**A/N: This chapter has a warning for language! **_

* * *

**Day 8 (Day 23): Arguing**

* * *

After successfully stopping the murder of another drug dealer, John has all intentions of asking Sherlock about that kiss, maybe asking for it to continue, but Sherlock says they need to get back to the hotel to start tracking the next moves of the murderer. So John doesn't say anything about it, instead he just goes to sleep while Sherlock stays up to go through a few files.

* * *

John can't take it anymore. Three days have gone by and they haven't talked about the kiss at all. Sure, they were technically undercover, and Sherlock was playing a part, but that kiss…it wasn't _nothing. _

John watches the last that his frustration can take: Sherlock yelled at a barista. The poor boy did mess up their order, but even John can tell that he's only been working at the café for a few days and probably didn't even wake up remembering his own name. Still, it would've been nice to have the right cup of coffee.

"Complete idiot—" he hears Sherlock tell the boy, and that's enough. He throws some cash on the counter and marches out of the shop.

He gets down the street, unsure of where to go in this foreign land, before he hears loud footsteps behind him.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asks in his deep baritone.

"Anywhere," John says.

"We're not done with the case. We have leads—"

John turns around in the street. "I'm done, Sherlock. I'm finished. I'm going home, I'm…I'm leaving."

Sherlock's face changes to look concerned. "Leaving?"

"Leaving, Sherlock! As in I'm gone! Because that's _clearly _what you want."

"What do you mean?"

"You have paid no attention to me for three whole days. Anything I say, you ignore. Anything I do, you say it doesn't matter. What the fuck do you want from me, Sherlock? I can't win with you!"

"I'm…I'm busy—"

"Fuck being busy, Sherlock. I get it, alright. That kiss, it was..."

"It was for the case, John."

John squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. "You can not stand here and tell me it didn't mean anything to you."

"I was working."

"Fuck that," John says. "But you know what? I get it. I'm out of here."

John turns around to walk away, this time knowing that he's going back to their hotel to pack his things.

"Did it mean something to you?" he hears right behind him.

He didn't know Sherlock was following, but that doesn't make him stop walking.

"Did it?" Sherlock asks, louder.

This time, John stops and turns around. "Yes!" he yells right in Sherlock's face. "It did, alright? It meant a lot to me, okay? Because I…" John stops, deciding not to let it get too far.

"I…I didn't—"

"No, you didn't realize it, I know that. But it meant something to me, so the fact that you haven't addressed it for three days is fucking killing me, Sherlock. But you don't get that, and that's fine. So I'm leaving."

Sherlock frowns. This time, he lets John leave.


	9. Day 9: Making Up Afterwards

**Day 9 (Day 24): Making Up Afterwards**

* * *

Sherlock finds John at the train station. He goes straight there after John stormed off in the street, knowing that it'd ruin everything if he missed John.

Finally John shows up, suitcase in hand, so Sherlock mentally blocks everything out (the case, the leads, even the setting) and focuses on John.

"John," he says as he gets next to John.

John sighs. "Just once, Sherlock, could you not follow me?"

"Of course not," Sherlock says. "Can we talk?"

John rolls his eyes. "Fine," he says, then leads Sherlock over to an empty bench.

"Twenty minutes until my train leaves," John lets Sherlock know.

"Plenty of time," Sherlock replies.

"To?"

"To…apologize…"

"For?"

"For being an arse these past few days."

John snorts. "Never a sentence I thought I'd hear you say."

"I have been an arse and I am sorry," Sherlock says. "John, please don't move out."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"I'd be devastated," Sherlock says before he can stop himself.

John looks at him. "Would you?"

"Of course."

"So I just…I just ignore the kiss? I ignore what I felt?"

"What did you feel?"

John rubs his forehead. "I felt everything, Sherlock. I felt joyous, I felt scared."

"Scared?"

"Scared of how happy I felt. I haven't felt that way in so long, Sherlock, you have no idea."

"I felt that way…never," Sherlock says.

John frowns. "That's not helping."

"You misunderstand my use of tense, John. _Felt_, as in…before you."

John stops. Realization spreads all over his face.

"I've been scared the past few days," Sherlock goes on. "Knowing you have been too is…it's relieving."

"So…then…"

"So…" Sherlock says, "Don't move out. Don't leave. We have leads to follow."

"So we're just ignoring this, then?"

"Of course not. We are…working around it."

"So, ignoring it."

"We'll continue talking about it after the case, alright?"

"Will there be more kissing?"

Sherlock grins, then stands. "If you play your cards right."

John smiles back and follows him up. "Deal."

Sherlock starts walking off the platform. "Let's go. We need to get back to the hotel."

"For what?"

"To drop off your suitcase, of course."

John laughs, following Sherlock to a cab.


	10. Day 10: Cuddling Somewhere

**Day 1 (Day 2): Cuddling Somewhere**

* * *

They get word that the subject is back in England the next morning. Sherlock quickly packs (throws his and John's clothes into their bags), and drags John out of the hotel.

* * *

"Sherlock!" John cries as he follows Sherlock on the platform. "I don't want to take the train home!"

"The flights were all booked and I need to get back to London _today_," Sherlock argues over his shoulder. "We'll be home in under three hours."

John groans loudly. "Okay," he concedes, of course. "But you're buying me lunch!"

* * *

The get settled on the train and sit comfortably in their seats. Sherlock gets John a sandwich, even though he claims John can wait until dinner, then they pull out a few documents and begin to pass the time by looking over the evidence they found in Paris.

When John's done with his sandwich, he stretches in his seat and yawns loudly.

Sherlock watches, annoyed, but a bit…fond.

John gives him his usual innocent lopsided grin. "Mind if I shut my eyes for a few minutes?"

Sherlock shrugs. "You're not really helping that much anyway."

John glares, but chuckles. "Prick. Wake me in twenty."

Sherlock agrees, then watches as John snuggles up to the hard train wall and shuts his eyes, his head resting against the even harder window.

Sherlock watches John nap for as long as he can before he feels bad about John's angry sleeping face. He's uncomfortable, clearly, being pushed against the hard wall. He might be cold too, being that close to the window.

As silently as he can, Sherlock gets off of his bench and slides across to John's. He sits as close to John as he can, then lets John's reaction to the sudden heat next to him command his sleeping actions.

Luckily for Sherlock, John shifts to lean against Sherlock instead of the window. Sherlock smiles widely, then picks up his documents and studies with little attention he can bother to give it.

At the next stop, which is soon after Sherlock moves, a woman comes to their compartment door and peeks in.

"Oh, sorry…" she mutters, stepping away.

Sherlock motions to the seat across. "Please."

She smiles weakly and sits down. "All the other seats are taken."

"This is a popular train," he says.

She laughs. "I'm Kate."

"Sherlock," he replies.

"Nice to meet you, Sherlock."

Sherlock nods at John, who is still gently dozing on his shoulder. "This is John."

Kate laughs again. "Long day," she says.

"We've been too busy working to sleep properly," he explains.

Kate nods in acceptance. "On your way back to London?"

Sherlock talks to Kate for a while longer; they talk about what they had to do in Paris (both work), their jobs, other things about their lives.

"So," she finally says. "How long have you two been together?"

"Just over a year," Sherlock says.

"A year? Wow. And no ring? Taking it slow, then?"

Sherlock smiles and nods, then quickly frowns with confusion. "Wait, no, I didn't mean…we're not—"

She raises an eyebrow. "You're not?"

Sherlock looks down at John. "We're just—"

"You're flatmates? Met randomly, through a friend? And decided to move in together? Can't figure out where to take your very close…_friendship_?"

"How can you tell?"

"Happened to my _straight_ brother about five years ago," Kate explains.

"And what did he do?"

Kate unlocks her phone and shows Sherlock the home screen photo, which is a picture of Kate holding a little girl. "This is my niece, River. My straight brother and his husband adopted her two years ago, right after she was born."

"She's…" Sherlock says something John always says when he sees small children, "Adorable."

Kate smiles down at the picture. "Anything is possible," she mutters.

Sherlock looks at John. "Maybe."

Sherlock lets John sleep while he sorts out evidence and talks to Kate. John doesn't wake up for nearly an hour, and when he does he looks pleasantly surprised to be cuddled against Sherlock.

"Good afternoon," Sherlock says to him.

John sits up at straightens his back. He looks at Kate, as if noticing her for the first time. His cheeks grow bright red and his eyes wide. "Oh…uhm, hello…"

Kate smiles widely at him and reaches out to shake her hand. "I'm Kate! Your mate was kind enough to let me sit with you two."

"Oh," John says. He smiles at Sherlock. "That's nice of you." He pats Sherlock's knee, then pretends to need help steadying himself to stand and that's why his hand is still on Sherlock's knee. "If you'll excuse me," he says, shuffling past them and out of the compartment.

"He is head over heels," Kate says once John is gone.

Sherlock looks at her. "You really think so?"

"Does he always smile like that the first time he sees you each day?"

Sherlock furrows his brows and slowly nods, realizing that yes, John does that.

"Does he always linger on unnecessary touches as such?"

Sherlock bites his lip and nods, remembering a few nights ago at the party, his unnecessary touches on his back when they were standing talking to other couples.

"He has realized it," Kate says. "Have you?"

Sherlock just nods, knowing that yes, he has.

The rest of the way to London, John and Sherlock talk about the case while Kate fondly watches and offers little input if she has anything to say. Sherlock appreciates her help, then when they get to London they tell Kate it was nice to meet her and move to part ways.

"Good luck, Sherlock," Kate says as she walks away.

Sherlock just smiles.

"Sherlock, coming?" John calls to him.

"Be right there!" Sherlock calls back.


	11. Day 11: In Battle Side-by-Side

**Day 11 (Day 10): In Battle, Side by Side**

* * *

They get back to work as soon as they get home. Members of the homeless network spotted the subject tailing a kid about six blocks away from Baker Street, so John and Sherlock rush to his location.

Sherlock calls Lestrade. Never has he gone on _feeling _alone, but he explains that he has a feeling something bigger than before is going to happen.

They arrive at a house where the subject was last spotted. It looks perfectly normal, but any place can put on a façade.

Lestrade's men arrive soon.

"He in there?" one asks.

Sherlock nods.

They invade as soon as they arrive. The team enters the house silently, Sherlock right behind them, and they do find and stop the murder.

"He's just a kid," Sherlock hears someone say as they arrest the murderer and comfort the almost-victim.

They figure it's about time to arrest him to get him to talk. The murder of five and the attempted murder of seven _would_ get him to talk.

"Fine, fine," the murderer concedes as they take him to a car, "I'll take you to my boss."

* * *

About an hour later, they arrive at a manor outside of London. The murderer calls his boss for a meeting, and the cops send him in alone and let him know they're waiting outside.

Gunshots are heard. They all run into the house, even John and Sherlock. Someone tosses Sherlock a gun and John tells Sherlock to stay behind him.

"I'll protect you," John tells him.

Sherlock nods.

John gives Sherlock a quick peck on the lips, then they go into the house with the rest of the cops.

A lot happens that Sherlock can't quite keep up with. Entering each room is dangerous because they don't know where traps or other shooters may be. They stay close together, and John stands right in front of him the entire time.

They finally get to the biggest room, the master den of the manor, and the team silently moves through to find the big drug lord they're looking for. The murderer they'd been tailing is laying dead on the floor, and the guy has his gun out.

Shots are fired, John shoots too, and eventually the guy drops and the cops move to arrest him.

John pushes Sherlock out of the house and Sherlock hardly notices. He gets outside and feels the need for a shock blanket, but John wraps his arms around him and he feels better.

"You okay?" John asks.

Sherlock's seen many people die, he's seen druggies battle and wound each other and he's been absolutely fine afterwards. But John was never involved in any of that; he was never in the line of fire. Bullets flew past him, and they were close enough to make Sherlock want to throw up.

Once they're checked out and told they can leave, they climb into a car and are driven home.

Sherlock slumps against John once they're on the road.

"Alright?" John asks, patting Sherlock's knee.

Sherlock takes a deep breath and nods.

"Do you need to talk about it?" John asks.

"My mind is rattled. It's not even racing, it just feels…jumbled."

"Jumbled?"

"Shaken. It hurts."

John carts his fingers through Sherlock's hair. Sherlock involuntarily jumps when John touches him.

"It'll be okay," John whispers.

Sherlock settles and snuggles further onto John's shoulder. "I can't even remember what day it is," he whispers.

John clicks his phone on. It's just past two in the morning, so the new day is well started.

"Look at that," he says. "July seventh."

Sherlock's heart breaks. "Happy birthday, John. I'm so sorry."

John nuzzles against Sherlock's hair. "It's not the first birthday I've started in battle."

Sherlock frowns. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," John tells him. "It's fine. We got him."

Sherlock still frowns. "I'll make it up to you."

"You don't have to."

"I will. Dinner tonight."

He feels John smile. "Deal."


	12. Day 12: On One of Their Birthdays

**Day 12 (Day 27): On One of Their Birthdays**

* * *

They get home a short time later and immediately go to (their own) beds. Though they're both slightly disappointed, having spent the last few days sleeping in the same room, they're still both eager to get some much needed rest.

Sherlock is uncharacteristically up earlier than John the next morning. After being as quiet as possible to not wake John (also very uncharacteristic), he goes to the Yard alone to fill out his paperwork and statements. After John's comment last night about it not being his first birthday in battle, Sherlock wants nothing more than to let John rest on this day.

* * *

He gets home around two in the afternoon, and he can't stop himself from smiling when he sees John, freshly bathed, snoozing lightly on the sofa. He wants to go over and cuddle up to John, fall asleep to, but he stops on his way.

His stomach drops. He feels like throwing up. He feels an intense amount of worry.

_What's going to happen when John wakes up?_ Sherlock wonders. _Is John going to smile remembering that the case is over, that their relationship can progress? Or is that going to make him frown? Is he going to think what happened in Paris is a mistake? Is he going to move out after all?_

Sherlock has a decision to make. He knows he can barricade himself in his bedroom until John leaves and not have to deal with the inevitable "This was a mistake..." conversation. Or he can just climb onto the couch and not let John think it was a mistake; and honestly that's something he's willing to do for the rest of his life.

_The rest of my life _scares him even more, but this time in a much sweeter way, so Sherlock silently kicks off his shoes and goes to the sofa.

His belt joins his phone and wallet on the coffee table. His suit jacket gets thrown to the floor, and his shirt tail is tugged from his trousers. In seconds he climbs onto the sofa, and onto John.

"Hmm..." John sighs in wonder; no doubt he's alarmed by the sudden hot weight clinging to his side.

Sherlock doesn't say anything. He just lays his head on John's chest.

John rubs his cheek against Sherlock's hair, now more awake.

"Where'd you go?" he asks, his voice thick with sleep.

"The Yard," Sherlock replies.

"Woke up..." John clears his throat. "Came down to find you but..."

"I wanted you to rest."

"Mmm..."

Sherlock closes his eyes to go back to sleep, being impossibly comfortable against John.

"You said there'd be more kissing," John slurs as he's drifting off.

Sherlock laughs. "I said you'd have to play your cards right."

"It's my birthday, I deserve at least a few kisses."

Sherlock laughs again and looks up at John. John's grinning, but his eyes are closed, and Sherlock really can't stop himself before he's up and kissing John lightly.

John happily kisses back, if not a slowly because he's still falling asleep. He sighs against Sherlock's lips when Sherlock trails his tongue over John's bottom lip.

They kiss hotly for only a few minutes before Sherlock pulls back first. John makes a pained sound.

"Go back to sleep," Sherlock whispers.

John tightens his hold on Sherlock. "You too."

"When we wake up, I'll take you to dinner."

John nods.

Sherlock leans down and kisses him one more time, then lays back down on John and closes his eyes.

After a few minutes of silence, John whispers, "This is the best birthday ever."

Sherlock can't help but smile.


	13. Day 13: Doing Something Sweet

_**A/N: Sorry this has taken a turn to random updates. I am finishing it, I promise. I've started writing something else that has my attention right now, but this isn't ending. Please be patient! **_

* * *

**Day 13 (Day 29): Doing Something Sweet**

* * *

Sherlock lets John sleep a while after he gets up. He doesn't want to get up, for John's body curled on the couch looks like it's asking to be cuddled, but Sherlock gets up anyway.

He calls down to Angelo's for a reservation.

"Don't be absurd, silly boy, you don't need a reservation," Angelo tells him over the phone.

"It's John's birthday," Sherlock explains. "Can you have a private table ready with a bottle of your best red wine?"

"Of course, my boy."

* * *

Sherlock wakes John up on time for him to dress. Sherlock's very excited, but John promises that he doesn't need to do anything special.

"Yes I do," Sherlock says.

They get to Angelo's not long after. As promised, Angelo's got a table ready for them near the back.

They get settled and order and give their menus back and turn to each other to make conversation and-

Nothing comes out.

There's absolutely nothing to talk about.

"It's hard to find new topics when we do absolutely everything together," John says.

Sherlock nods in agreement. "I'm sure there's something."

"For the past few weeks, we've been together every waking moment. There's nothing."

Sherlock frowns. "This is a problem, isn't it?"

John shakes his head. "No, of course not."

"Normal couples...they talk, they chat. They have things to talk about."

John cracks a smile. "Normal...couples?"

Sherlock looks at him. He heard his mistake. _Couple. _

"Do you think we're a couple?"

"Aren't we?" Sherlock ventures to ask.

John smiles wider. He doesn't say anything to that.

Their food arrives, their wine is served, and it doesn't even matter that there's nothing to talk about.

"This was nice of you," John says.

"I know," Sherlock says.

John looks at him.

Sherlock clears his throat. "I meant...I agree...no, not that...I meant-"

John laughs. "Sherlock, it's okay."

Sherlock nods and sips his wine.

"The only thing that will make this birthday better than our nap on the sofa earlier will be chocolate cake."

Sherlock drops his fork. He didn't ask Angelo for cake. He looks up at John. "I'll be right back." He hops from the table and runs to the kitchen.

"Angelo!" Sherlock yells through the room.

"Sherlock?" Angelo calls back.

"Cake! I didn't order any cake! I need cake, I need-"

Angelo finds him. "Sherlock, my boy, relax. I have cake!"

"Chocolate. It needs to be chocolate."

Angelo grasps his shoulder. "Yes, my boy, anything you need."

Sherlock nods and takes a deep breath.

"Sherlock," Angelo says as he's pushing Sherlock out of the kitchen. "Relax. So you've got nothing to talk about? So what?"

"Were you listening?!" Sherlock cries.

Angelo pushes him away before he can answer.

He goes back to his table and sits uneasily.

"Alright?" John asks.

Sherlock nods. "Fine."

Their cake arrives before they're even done eating. John laughs and happily takes it anyway.

"I knew you'd come through," John says, then he leans across the table and kisses Sherlock lightly.

"Finally!" they hear from the kitchen.

They pull apart laughing.

"Thank you, Sherlock," John whispers.

"You're welcome, John," Sherlock says before he kisses John again.


	14. Day 14: Watching a Movie

_**A/N: For the next few chapters, the story is taking a turn for...more mature content. This is a warning for, in this chapter, suggestive wording. **_

* * *

**Day 14 (Day 3): Gaming/Watching a Movie**

* * *

A slow week goes by of delightful kisses of _good morning_, _goodnight_, _thank you's_, _you're welcome's_, _I missed you's_, and _just because. _

A short case comes and goes, and a week after John's birthday, Sherlock says they can have a movie night.

Of course, Sherlock complains about the movie John chooses.

"You said I could pick the movie," John says as he positions his chair to comfortably face the television.

"But James Bond again, John? Really?"

John grunts while pushing the chair. "Some help would be nice."

"I'm sure it would be."

John gets his chair into place, then swats Sherlock on the knee.

"Ow!"

"That's for all your help."

Sherlock glares and pulls his knees even closer to his chest.

John sits with a satisfied sigh and presses 'play' on the remote control. He gets his bowl of popcorn off the floor and takes a kernel as the beginning credits start.

Sherlock watches John delicately eat the popcorn. He doesn't shovel it in by the handful, he picks up one or two at a time and eats it slowly.

John finally looks at him after long minutes. "Want some?" he asks.

Sherlock shakes his head and looks back at the television.

His gaze doesn't stay there long. His eyes slowly drift back to John and that bowl of popcorn. He licks his lips, wanting to taste the salty goodness of what John's got on his lap…maybe what's under it.

Sherlock snaps his eyes away from John and blinks many times, as if trying to rewind time. His cheeks heat up with embarrassment for thinking that, and he thanks god that John isn't a mind reader.

"You okay?" John asks.

_Fuck, _Sherlock thinks. _He knows. He knows what I just thought. He heard me. Fuck._

"Fine," Sherlock squeaks out.

John laughs. "I see you eyeing my popcorn. You sure you don't want any?"

"Uh…sure," Sherlock says. "Just a bit, I guess."

John moves to stand. "I'll get you a—"

"No it's ok," Sherlock says, reaching over to John's lap. "I'll just have a bit of yours."

John watches Sherlock's hand make its way to him; he watches intently as Sherlock grabs a large handful and _squeezes _the popcorn tight in his fist. He slowly blinks up to Sherlock's face and watches as Sherlock licks his puffy lips and _thrusts _his hand out of the popcorn bowl.

John clears his throat.

Sherlock brings the handful of popcorn to his face and opens his mouth wide to get as much of the handful into his mouth as he can.

John's thankful there's a bowl on his lap.

"Watch your movie, John," Sherlock coolly says.

"Right," John says, looking back at the television. "The movie."

Sherlock glances at John, noting the subtle red tinge to his cheeks and the slight dilation of his pupils.

_Good, _Sherlock thinks, _Now we're both embarrassed and maybe a bit…aroused._


	15. Day 15: Gazing Into Each Other

**Day 15 (Day 25): Gazing Into Each Other's Eyes**

* * *

When the movie ends and they're both more calm, for the most part, they move to the sofa.

John delicately takes Sherlock's hand and lifts it to his mouth, kissing the palm lightly.

"John," Sherlock sighs. His heart is beating quickly. "I...I've never felt for anyone else what I feel for you."

"Same to you," John says, taking his time to kiss each of Sherlock's fingertips.

"Even as a friend, John," Sherlock clarifies. "The closest I've ever been to anyone is to my brother and, well, you've seen us together."

John chuckles and sets Sherlock's hand down. "I know, Sherlock."

Sherlock looks into John's deep blue eyes. "Are you happy, John?"

"Yes," John says.

"You misunderstand my meaning."

"You asked if I'm happy, I said yes because I am."

"Yes, but I mean...here with me. Not only with me on this sofa but...in 221B, solving crimes, being pulled out of bed at odd hours, skipping meals because we have leads-"

"Sherlock, Sherlock," John stops him. "Yes, to all of it. You asked if I'm happy, I answered yes. And I mean it."

"Alright," Sherlock sighs.

"Honestly, Sherlock, I..." John looks at Sherlock's pale face. He looks so fragile, so open and vulnerable. John bites his tongue, fearing what saying this will do, but he says it anyway. "I love...you."

Sherlock gasps in shock. His eyes spark as if igniting a flame deep within his brain. Certainly the 'love' part of the brain, which was without a doubt locked up when he was young, the first time his brother told him that caring isn't an advantage.

It makes John smile. He leans forward and presses his forehead against Sherlock's.

"It's you and me," he says, staring at his own reflection in Sherlock's eyes. "Against the rest of the world."

"You and me," Sherlock repeats softly against John's lips before closing the gap and kissing him lightly.


	16. Day 16: Making Out

_**A/N: Warning for boy kisses. **_

* * *

**Day 16 (Day 12): Making Out**

* * *

"John, stop…" Sherlock sighs roughly against John's lips. His hands tighten against John's chest and he looks down at where he's still connected with this man next to him. "What…what are we doing?"

"We're kissing," John says, "Quite spectacularly, I might add. You're sure you don't have previous experience in this department?"

"Kissing?" Sherlock chuckles. "I said it wasn't my area."

"You said _girls _weren't your area," John corrects.

Sherlock smiles, but just as quickly frowns. "John, I'm serious. What are we doing?"

"We're not doing anything you don't want to do," John says, "I promise."

Sherlock looks up at John's face once again. Soft eyes gaze back at him, they look concerned over the dilated pupils of arousal.

"What do you want to do?" John asks.

Sherlock licks his lips. "How long do I have to decide?" he asks, sounding pained.

John chuckles. "All night. No, no," he corrects himself, "Eternity, Sherlock. You have an entire lifetime."

Sherlock bashfully looks down at his hands on John's chest again. "A lifetime?"

"Yes, Sherlock, I don't care if you want to have sex with me tonight, or not until tomorrow, or not for another week, or for another ten _years, _love, I don't care."

Sherlock's eyes snap up to John's face. "Love?"

John blushes. "I'm sorry, it's just…habit."

"You call people 'love' often?"

"Only when I love them. So…no, not often."

Sherlock looks down again and blushes.

John takes hold of his chin and tilts his head up again. "Stop being so bashful, Sherlock. I mean it, all of it. I love you, of course I do. How have you not known this entire time?"

"I…I thought I knew, John…but…I didn't want to be wrong, so I…"

"You pushed it away?"

Sherlock nods.

John smiles. "You don't have to push it away anymore, alright?"

Sherlock nods again.

"Now," John starts, "Can we please get back to that fantastic kissing? Please?"

Sherlock smiles, so John dives in for another bruising kiss.

Their lips together feel right, that's how Sherlock would describe it. Never one for grand words and declarations, that's all he can think of it as: right. Along with alarmingly arousing, that is. John's tongue continuously sliding over his bottom lip, flicking around his own tongue, it's arousing. It's hot and wet and this alone is more sex than he's had ever so each pass of John's tongue over his own feels like its own little orgasm in itself. John's hands on his face and neck feel just right; he wants to throw himself all over John; he wants kisses all over his body.

So he asks for it.

"John?" he sighs between smacking kisses.

"Yes?"

"Kiss my neck," he begs.

"Oh god, yes…"

The first touch makes his toes curl. John's tongue against his jugular vein feels like warm cream being poured all over his body. He's showered in heat, like a steamy bath; his body feels like it's on fire.

He cries out without meaning to.

John instantly pulls away. "What? What, Sherlock, I'm sorry, did I do it wrong? Did you not like that? I'm sorry!"

Sherlock shakes his head and catches his breath. He needs John's tongue all over him.

"Off," he mutters, "I need—" he rips his shirt off his shoulders, then grabs John's head and yanks him forward.

John's mouth makes contact with his nipple before he even asks John to. He cries out again, this time thrashing against John and angling so his other nipples is firmly lodged in John's mouth.

"God, John…" Sherlock sighs, pulling on John's head once again, this time lining up with his mouth.

They kiss much longer now, this time Sherlock taking over more. His initiation of tongue over lips is just as good as John's on him, for the _want _to kiss someone has never been this strong.

It seems like hours before they stop kissing, and it's only stopped because John stands to invite Sherlock to bed.


	17. Day 17: Doing Something Ridiculous

_**A/N: WARNING for sex. I wasn't going to but I decided to anyway. Enjoy.**_

* * *

**Day 17 (Day 28): Doing Something Ridiculous**

* * *

They fall into bed easily, like they've been meant to do it their entire lives. For John, it's never been this easy with anyone before. Sex, for him, has always been forced sensuality with a girlfriend he didn't love that much or, in the military, was fast and dirty and necessary to calm nerves and altogether not that great in a tent with your guns laying next to you.

For Sherlock, of course, it's _never _been about sex. Even now, this isn't _sex, _this is showing John how much he loves him with not only his brain but his body. The brain part is hard. Words? What are they when you're this in love? It's not enough to say "I love you" sometimes, and Sherlock hasn't even said those three simple words.

So he does it now.

"I love you," Sherlock says.

By the look on John's face, you'd think he just won the lottery.

"You do?" he asks, grinning.

Sherlock smiles back. "Yes, of course."

John kisses him while pushing Sherlock onto his back. John strokes down the soft skin under his fingertips, pulling satisfied sighs from his love.

He accidentally presses his hips into Sherlock's thigh, letting Sherlock feel that hardness in his pants.

Sherlock works his lips away. "Do I still have all night to decide what we're going to do?"

John chuckles and pulls his hips back. "Sorry. Lousy thing's got a mind of its own."

Sherlock grins, pushing a hand between them and palming John through his jeans. John gasps.

"Lousy?" Sherlock asks. "I surely hope not."

John laughs. "Soon you'll find that it's lousy with getting up at all the wrong times."

"Like when we're sharing popcorn and watching James Bond."

"Yes, like then."

Sherlock doesn't stop stroking John. "I have to admit that mine is lousy then, too."

John pays him back by gripping him, too. "Oh is it?" he teases.

Sherlock presses his hips into John's hand and shoves his tongue into John's mouth.

* * *

Clothes are off fast now because Sherlock remembers how badly he needs John's tongue on him. Anywhere, everywhere, he begs for it.

"Remember," John whispers, licking one of Sherlock's nipples. "We've got all night."

"I'm not going to last all night."

John pulls up and swirls his finger around the nipple he was just sucking. "Sensitive nipples," he mutters. "Noted."

Sherlock arches into John's touch. He groans loudly. "Do something, John."

John sucks on a sensitive part of Sherlock's neck, leaving a faint red mark that'll bruise by morning. "Do what?"

"Anything!" Sherlock cries.

John butterfly touches his way down Sherlock's chest, to belly, to hip, to thigh, then wraps his entire hand around Sherlock's erection. Sherlock sighs in shock, then moans.

"This?" John asks.

"More, please!" Sherlock begs.

John grins. He kisses Sherlock's lips as he continues to stroke Sherlock, drowning in Sherlock's loud moans.

* * *

Sherlock decides he wants to know what it's like for John to be inside him. John convinces him to settle for a few fingers rather than anything else that night.

Sherlock settles back and gets comfortable against his pillows while John runs into the kitchen to get the lube Sherlock needed for an experiment last month.

"I still don't understand what this experiment was about," John mutters as he re-enters the bedroom.

"I'm not explaining it now," Sherlock says.

John kneels on the bed. "Why not? You're not doing anything but laying there."

Sherlock glares. "It's difficult to maintain one train of thought with your hand down there on my-" he cries out as John bends to lick one stripe up his cock. "That!"

John laughs and sits up. He pushes Sherlock's thighs apart and settles between them.

"You want this?" he asks.

Sherlock nods eagerly. "Yes, please."

John lifts an eyebrow. "Please?"

"_Please_."

John grins and kisses Sherlock's knee, then pours some lube onto his fingers. "Ready?"

Sherlock nods again.

* * *

The sounds Sherlock makes is obscene. John's never in his life been with such a rowdy lover, but he couldn't have hoped for anything from that gorgeous voice Sherlock has.

By the time he gets two fingers into Sherlock, Sherlock begins to rotate his hips to meet each of John's thrusts. He throws his arms over his head and grips the pillow tightly.

"John..." Sherlock moans. "Just fuck me, _please_."

"Not..." John gasps for breath. "Yet..."

Sherlock bites his bottom lip and moans louder. He throws his right leg over John's left shoulder and continues to thrust his lips up.

"Oh god..." John sighs, working his fingers faster in and out of Sherlock. He holds onto Sherlock's calf, then angles his hips to press his cock against the back of Sherlock's thigh. The friction isn't perfect, but god it still feels amazing.

"Touch your cock," John whispers, hoping Sherlock heard him.

He did. Sherlock reaches down and takes himself in hand, stroking in time with John's fingers inside him and still writhing around John's hand.

"God..." John pants, still thrusting his own hips against Sherlock's thigh. "I'm going to come, too."

"Not long..." Sherlock groans. "Oh, _John_!" he cries a second later, trapping John's hand inside him and coming all over his own stomach.

John tightens his grip on Sherlock's leg, but he doesn't come right then. He's too distracted by the blissful look on Sherlock's sweaty face, his sounds, the look of his flushed skin, and the even whiter strips of come on his pale belly.

When Sherlock relaxes, he reaches down and pulls John's fingers out of himself, then, before John can stop him, he adjusts to lay sideways with the ability to get his mouth on John's cock.

He licks to get John wet, then he does what John did earlier and opens his mouth as wide as he can to get John in as deep as he can go.

Which is very. Sherlock suppresses his gag reflex, swallowing John down his throat and moaning around John.

John gasps and nearly screams, clutching Sherlock's hair tightly with his clean hand and thrusting faintly into Sherlock's mouth.

He comes in no time, maybe a minute. He groans with a satisfied sigh and holds Sherlock's head still so he can come down Sherlock's throat.

* * *

John collapses backwards, his head at the foot of the bed, and Sherlock climbs over to lay on his chest.

"Was that good?" Sherlock asks.

"Good?!" John cries. "Completely ridiculous."

"So...good?"

John hugs Sherlock close as he catches his breath. "Best orgasm I've ever had."

Sherlock grins against his chest. "Really? I bet we can do better."

John smiles down at him. "We can certainly try."

Sherlock kisses his chest, then lays back down and closes his eyes.


	18. Day 18: Spooning

**Day 18 (Day 17): Spooning**

* * *

Once they're calm and ready for sleep, Sherlock turns onto his side and turns John manually for John to turn onto _his _side, his back against Sherlock's chest. Sherlock cuddles John close, then closes his eyes for sleep.

A few minutes later, John huffs. "This isn't working for me."

Sherlock's eyes snap open. "What?!"

John turns onto his other side and pushes Sherlock too, so that now John is holding Sherlock.

"I'm the holder," John says.

"Really John," Sherlock mutters, "You've just had sex with a man, I think now is the wrong time to assess your masculinity."

John laughs and swats Sherlock's thigh. "That's not why I don't like to be held. I do like your arms around me, sure, I just don't like sleeping with anything on me."

Sherlock turns to look at John as much as he can. "Does that go for pajamas, too?"

John grins. "If I'm in bed with you, god knows I'll never have clothes."

Sherlock laughs. "Fair enough," he says, turning slightly more to kiss John quickly before falling back onto his side.

They rest that way for a few minutes, until John sighs dramatically.

"What now?" Sherlock asks.

"I don't sleep on my side."

"Oh for god's sake," Sherlock sighs, turning over once more and pushing John onto his back. He adjusts John's arm so he can lay on it, snuggling against John but not wrapping his arm around John's torso.

"How's this?" Sherlock asks.

"Much better," John says, yawning.

Sherlock kisses his chest. "Go to sleep."

John kisses Sherlock's forehead. "You too."

Sherlock smiles and closes his eyes, still grinning against John's chest.

A few minutes later, when Sherlock is almost asleep, John talks again.

"You're not going to regret this is the morning, are you?"

"Regret what?" Sherlock slurs.

"This. Me and you. Sex."

Sherlock chuckles from deep in his throat. "No," he says. "I will not regret this. Me and you. Or sex."

John laughs. "Okay. Go back to sleep."

Sherlock doesn't say anything back.

John rubs his head and bends to kiss him again. "I love you," he whispers.

"I love you too," Sherlock sleepily replies.

* * *

_**A/N: I know you guys have noticed, but some chapters are so short because those are ones I write the day I'm uploading to get the creative juices flowing. Right now, like I said, I'm doing two other stories besides this so they're just...they're like when you stretch before exercising, you know? I'm just getting my brain ready to write more. Thanks for being patient and (hopefully) understanding! Thanks for reading!**_


	19. Day 19: Holding Hands

**Day 19 (Day 1): Holding Hands**

* * *

John looks at his watch again. He said to meet at a quarter 'til noon so they can have lunch together, but it's ten 'til and John's nervous.

He's not showing, John convinces himself. He's not. Last night was a mistake, I know it.

John turns around to walk away, thinking he'll get himself a quick lunch in the hospital cafeteria before his next patient. He doesn't think about having to return home, he pushes away the thought of having to pack up and leave, which is inevitable due to the current situation.

He hears pounding footsteps running down the street. John turns around to see Sherlock running towards him.

"John!" Sherlock yells, panting as he approaches John. "John…I'm sorry I'm late, I was—"

John sighs relief and smiles. "I didn't think you were going to show."

Sherlock doubles over to catch his breath.

"Did you run all the way here?" John asks.

"Yes, I was…" Sherlock stands and grabs his chest. "I was six blocks away…crime scene…murder…"

"Murder? Sherlock you could've called, I would've understood if you cancelled."

Sherlock waves a dismissive hand. "No, no, I…I solved it…in half an hour."

John smiles wider. "Half an hour? God, Sherlock, that's incredible."

Sherlock smiles back, then frowns. "My heart is beating really fast, John."

John reaches up and places his hand flat over Sherlock's heart. "Oh, wow…"

Sherlock slowly places his hand over John's. John pets Sherlock's coat over his heart, then smooths his hand down the lapel, imagining his hand grazing the taut muscles of Sherlock's bare torso like he did last night. Without noticing, John licks his lips.

Sherlock smirks and takes John's hand, pushing it down so John's palm trails all the way down to Sherlock's belly button, to his hip.

"Lunch?" Sherlock asks.

John slowly blinks his gaze back up to Sherlock's face. "I, uh...yeah, yes."

Sherlock takes John's hand off of his chest, but he doesn't let go. He holds John's hand and turns to walk down the street.

John lets Sherlock pull him, extremely relieved that Sherlock showed and incredibly giddy that he's holding Sherlock's hand while walking to lunch.


	20. Day 20: On a Date

**Day 20 (Day 4): On a Date**

* * *

"So…" John says as they walk down the street. "Where to?"

Sherlock shrugs. "I don't care. I'm not hungry."

John looks at him. "You're not even hungry?"

"No. Is that a problem?"

"Kind of," John admits. "The point of a date is to eat together. Or do something else together."

"Something…_else_?" Sherlock grins.

John laughs. "I didn't mean _that_." He glances at Sherlock. "Unless…"

Sherlock laughs, too. "I thought we were limited on time."

"Right, right. Plus, our sexual relationship is not even…" John checks his watch, "Thirteen hours hold. Best not start the adventurous sex quite yet."

Sherlock looks down at John. "Our relationship?"

"Well…yeah. That's…isn't that…"

Sherlock leans over and shuts John up the best way he's finding desirable: kissing him lightly on the lips.

* * *

They finally get to a deli where John can get a sandwich and Sherlock can watch him eat.

"It's a bit weird that you're not eating," John says, sorting his sandwich on his plate.

Sherlock frowns. "Should I…should I go get something?"

John shakes his head. "No, not if you're not hungry. It's just…a bit weird."

Sherlock continues frowning.

John reaches across the table and takes his hand. "Why not just tell me about the case?"

Sherlock takes a deep breath, then starts. "It was easy and tedious. A business was robbed and the robber ended up being the owner's son."

"Wow," John mutters.

"It was simple once I noticed the dust spread on a wooden dresser. Well, actually, the dust was missing in a strip on a wooden dresser, where the burglar had sneezed. Right after that, I noticed the owner sneezed right when he passed that dresser too, but I knew it couldn't have been him. Then, the son arrived and it wasn't difficult to know it was him."

"Brilliant," John says, "As usual."

"Really?"

"Of course! Solved a robbery by a sneeze track? Who else could ever do that?"

Sherlock just smiles.

They talk about another case Sherlock has been working on, and John listens as closely as he usually does.

"You know," Sherlock suddenly says after a long speech. "This is pretty much what happens every time we go to eat."

"What?"

"I talk and watch you eat."

John nods. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"So we _have _been dating this entire time."

John sighs. "Not this again!"

"I'm just saying, John. If this is a date, why haven't they all been dates?"

"Because we weren't romantically involved then."

"Well," Sherlock says, "I don't really think we've been _that_ romantically involved, yet. We've only just established our relationship recently. Sexually involved, yes—"

"Sherlock!" John cries, looking around for nosy neighbors. "Not so loud!"

Sherlock ignores him. "And you would say _this _is being romantically involved? We've been doing _this _the entire time we've known each other, so I would say we've been romantically involved this whole time."

"I've dated other people, Sherlock."

Sherlock shrugs. "Doesn't mean you haven't been dating me."

John laughs and grabs Sherlock's hand again. "Fine. Fair enough."

Sherlock smiles.

* * *

Sherlock walks John back to work, and they stop outside to say goodbye.

"I enjoyed our date," John says, "Even though you didn't eat and it was a bit weird."

"Not any more weird than the dates we've already had."

John smiles. "You're brilliant, you know that?"

Sherlock shyly smiles back. "I've been told."

John stretches to kiss Sherlock quickly before backing towards the building. "See you later."

"I'll be waiting."

John smiles widely one last time, then turned around and leaves Sherlock.


	21. Day 21: Shopping

**Day 21 (Day 8): Shopping**

* * *

Weeks pass without many big cases because John wants to enjoy the 'honeymoon stage' of their relationship. There are a few minor cases, but nothing eventful occurs.

* * *

To pass the time, John makes Sherlock do everything with him. Including going shopping.

Sherlock slumps against the cart and pushes it while following John through the shop. John strides through like an expert, picking random items off the shelf and tossing them into the cart.

"Can I go home yet?" Sherlock asks.

John laughs. "We just got here."

"I live there, too. I can go without you."

"Do you really expect me to believe you actually brought your keys? Just last week you had to break in because you didn't take your keys when you left."

Sherlock sighs.

"If you help, we can half the time we're here." John takes the list he wrote and rips it in half.

Sherlock hangs his head and groans. "Had I known being in a relationship meant I have to shop now, I'd have—"

John glares at him. "You would have what?"

Sherlock stands up straight and snatches the slip of paper from John's hand. He steps past John and kisses his head. "Nothing, dear."

John smiles softly as Sherlock walks away.

* * *

_This really can't be that hard, _Sherlock thinks as he wanders the isles. He takes a look at the list and finds that the first thing is eggs. He grins, then goes to the candy isle to get a few eggs. Kinder Eggs, to be exact.

_Easy, _he thinks, getting the next thing on the list: milk. Chocolate milk is the exact same thing, right?

Sherlock gets his own cart for his items and breezes through the list from then on.

Biscuits? Oreos are good.

Juice? Wine is pretty much the same.

Fruit? Fruit snacks, sure.

Cheese? Spray cheese. With crackers.

Cream for tea? Whipped cream. For ice cream.

Once his list is complete, he excitedly goes through the shop to find John. He's eager to show John that he did it, that he successfully completed the list.

When Sherlock finds John, John's smiling. Pleased Sherlock finished the list, no doubt.

He gazes into the cart and frowns.

"Sherlock!"

"What?!"

"Are you kidding me? Kinder Eggs? Oreos? Whipped cream?"

"I completed the list."

John snatches the list from Sherlock's hand and examines it. He sighs. "Well, technically it is complete."

Sherlock holds back a grin. "Did I do well?"

John looks at him and cracks a smile. "I will postpone your murder for another day."

Sherlock does smile now.

John leans over and kisses him lightly, then he takes Sherlock's cart to put everything back. (Expect the whipped cream and wine. Those could be very useful).


	22. Day 22: Eating Ice Cream

_**A/N: Warning this chapter for sexual words. Sorry. **_

* * *

**Day 22 (Day 13): Eating Ice Cream**

* * *

Later that night, the whipped cream _is _put to good use.

After the wine. Then dinner. Then more wine. _Then _after Sherlock putting their vanilla lube to good use.

"That lube tastes good," he says as they lie side by side panting at the ceiling.

"Yeah?" John asks. "I'll have to taste it next time."

"But it's making me want something else..."

John grins. "More cock?" he jokes.

"No..." Sherlock absentmindedly mutters, then darts from the bed.

John laughs as he rushes out of the room without getting clothes.

* * *

Sherlock returns a few minutes later. After the fifth minute, John grew worried that Sherlock left the flat, so he's relieved when Sherlock returns.

Sherlock's happily smiling while holding a carton of ice cream, whipped cream peaking over the top and chocolate drizzled on it.

"I hope you brought nuts," John says, sitting up and making room for Sherlock to sit at the headboard with him.

Sherlock smirks. "I have some, but I doubt they're the kind you want with your ice cream."

John glances down at Sherlock's flaccid dick. "I'm not even going to say what I'm thinking," he says, looking back at Sherlock's face.

"You're thinking that you'd eat these nuts drizzled in spaghetti sauce if that's what we have handy."

John laughs. "You don't have to be so crude!"

"You thought it!"

John shakes his head as his laughter dies down. "Did you bring me a spoon?"

"Oh drat," Sherlock says. "I only brought one."

John smiles. "Oh, what a bummer. Guess we'll have to share."

Sherlock takes a large spoon full of mostly whipped cream and places it in his mouth, then leans over and give John a long, opened mouth kiss, transferring most of the sugary treat into John's mouth.

"Mmm," John sighs as Sherlock pulls away. "How unfortunate that you only brought one spoon."

Sherlock smiles and takes another bite of ice cream.

They sexily eat the ice cream this way for a bit under half the carton, until Sherlock decides he's done sharing. John leaves him be, shifting to lie next to Sherlock when Sherlock lies on his back to let the ice cream drip off the spoon and into his mouth.

"How's that?" John asks.

"Not as good as the lube."

John laughs. "Well, when you're done I'll let you taste it again."

Sherlock looks over at John's face, noticing the swell of his aroused dilated pupils and his shallow breathing, indicating an unforeseen erection before sees the actual erection.

"I'm done now," Sherlock says, dropping the carton on the floor and rolling on top of John.


	23. Day 23: Doing Something Together

**Day 23 (Day 18): Doing Something Together**

* * *

"I don't know why I need to come."

"You didn't."

"But when you said 'Sherlock, let's go for a run.' I didn't know how to decline."

"I didn't even say that."

"You're too persuasive sometimes. No wonder they made you a captain."

"I didn't try to persuade you."

"I just can't say no to you, John."

"I didn't give you an option; I didn't even offer."

Sherlock finally absorbs John's words. "Do you want me to leave or something?"

"At this moment, I couldn't give a literal rats arse what you do."

Sherlock stops on the trail. John stops next to him to catch his breath.

"Why are you mad at me?"

"I'm not," John grumbles, checking his pulse.

"Grumbling usually equals anger, John."

"Didn't mean to grumble."

"Now you're using fewer words than usual."

"Out of breath."

Sherlock rolls his eyes.

John takes one last deep breath and starts running again.

Sherlock follows.

A few silent minutes later, Sherlock grows bored again. He likes listening to John's panting, it's calming, but he's still very bored.

"Is it because I used your Army mug for worms again?"

John sighs. "No, love."

"Is it because I accidentally washed your favorite jumper with my blood covered apron?"

"No."

"Is it because I burned a hole in the ceiling?"

"No."

"Is it because I accidentally sent a photo of my dick to your sister?"

John stops on the pavement. "You what?!"

"Oh good," Sherlock says, looking at the ground. "She kept her promise not to tell you."

"When did this happen?!"

"Last week. While you were at work. Don't worry, it's not like she liked it. Though she did tell me to tell you well done-"

"Sherlock!" John waves a hand to get him to stop talking. "Sherlock, no I'm not upset because of those things. Even though you sent _that_ to my sister."

"Oh..." Sherlock frowns. "What is it, then?"

"It's just that..." John sighs. "Sherlock, you're the love of my life. For the past few years, you have been my entire life. I just. I need some time away. And work isn't enough. You text me constantly. You actually call me even though you prefer to text. You need me to be near you all the damn time. Babe, I love you, but please. I need some space. I came out here to-"

"To get away from me."

"Not in a bad way!" John tries. "I just need an hour or two alone."

Sherlock still frowns.

John sighs. "I'm sorry."

"No," Sherlock stops him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I'm annoying you with my presence."

"Sherlock!" John cries. "That's not it!"

John closes the gap between them and wraps his arms around Sherlock's waist. He presses his nose into Sherlock's neck and breathes deeply.

"I'm sorry."

He finally feels Sherlock's arms around him.

"I didn't mean to upset you."

"I didn't mean to annoy you."

"You're not. I didn't mean that you are. I'm flattered, love, truly. It means a lot that you want me around this much. But normal couples don't do every single thing together."

"Normal couples? Since when do we care about normal couples?"

"Since you peed while I was brushing my teeth two mornings ago and I realized I've never seen someone I'm attracted to pee."

"So...you want me to be more normal."

John pulls away to hold Sherlock at arms length. "No. I don't want you to be any less you. I just want you to be you...at least a room away from me while peeing."

Sherlock cracks a smile. "Okay, John."

"Don't smile, this is a serious conversation."

Sherlock lets out a light giggle.

John grins and giggles back. "We can't giggle, this is a grown up conversation."

Sherlock smiles widely.

John leans up and kisses him. "I love you," he says.

"I love you too."

"Now, would you like to continue our run or-"

Sherlock gives him a disgusted face. "Don't be clingy, John, I need to go home to finish my experiments."

John laughs loudly. "Alright, you go home. I'll meet you there."

Sherlock smiles. "Okay."

John kisses him one more time, then turns to run away.

Sherlock quickly grabs his hand. "John, wait."

John steps back to him. "What?"

Sherlock wraps his arms around John's neck. "Do normal couples have sex in parks?"

John laughs and tries to push him away. "Not in parks with young kids running around."

Sherlock looks to his left, then right, spotting absolutely zero strangers in sight.

"I'm still not having sex with you here. I'll be home in an hour. If you're good, I'll let you into the shower with me."

Sherlock smiles. "An hour."

John kisses him. "See you soon."

This time, Sherlock lets John run away.


	24. Day 24: CookingBaking Together

**Day 24 (Day 21): Cooking/Baking Together**

* * *

John loves to cook. He has since he was young, perched on his grandmother's sink watching her chop veggies and chicken for his favorite soup. He would help by sneaking tastes of carrots and celery; once he even took a bite of raw potato, took it out of his spitty little mouth and tossed it in the pot before Grandma could see.

He's carried this with him his entire life, never able to chop veggies without sneaking bites from himself and laughing about spit-covered potatoes.

Sherlock likes to watch John cook. But it drives him flippin' crazy.

John tosses a pinch of salt into the pot, not measuring out the recommended dose and instead relying on feel and weight alone to get the amount right.

"Why don't you measure the ingredients?" Sherlock asks as he tips his chair forward again. John keeps telling him not to, to sit on the hair the right way instead of the back of the chair to his chest, but he's not listening.

"Don't need to," is all John says, glancing at Sherlock's chair until he stops.

Sherlock watches him sprinkle pepper in next. "Why?"

"I've been doing this long enough that I don't need to."

"But..." Sherlock is confused. "When I mix things...I measure them."

"Right."

"So..."

"I do not need to measure because I am using salt and pepper, not acid and...god knows what else you use."

Sherlock chuckles. "I guess I understand."

"Cooking is simple. I bet you could do it."

"Are you implying I can only do simple tasks?"

"No, my love," John says. "I am implying that you never help and you could." John leans down and kisses his nose.

Sherlock smiles. "I'm afraid I would be of no use. I would do it all wrong."

"You can't cook wrong."

"I think the spaghetti you made last week would beg to differ."

John looks at him. "You didn't like that?"

"The _plate_ didn't like that, John."

John has to laugh. "You could have said something."

"You would have been hurt."

"So you ate not one, but _two _plates so I wouldn't be hurt?"

"The things we do for love."

John smiles at him, then kisses his lips. "Next time, you can tell me. In a polite way, please."

"Of course. Polite. Always."

John snorts. "Always."

Sherlock doesn't say anything. He leans on his arms folded on the back of the chair.

John glances at him. "Wanna help?"

Sherlock sits up straight. "Uhm, sure."

John waves him over to his other side, where there is more counter space. He places a cutting knife and a chicken breast in front of him.

"Think you can handle this?" John asks.

"I've dissected eyeballs, toes, ears, a brain once. I think I can handle a..."

"Chicken."

"Chicken," Sherlock repeats.

John laughs.

* * *

In no time, their product is finished and they're sitting down to eat. John serves Sherlock a healthy portion, then gets himself a little bit more and sits down.

Sherlock takes a bite first. He doesn't chew, doesn't swallow, for nearly thirty seconds.

John watches him. "Good?" he asks, taking a bite.

Sherlock finally swallows. "John, uhm...I...I want to be nice, but you said-"

"Oh motherfuck," John mutters. "This is shit."

"Well...when you put it that way..."

John bursts into laughter. "Son of a bitch. The rice is under-cooked, isn't it?"

"The chicken is...alright."

John sighs. "I'm sorry, love."

"No worries, John. I'm proud of your attempt, as always."

John still frowns. "Angelo's?"

Sherlock quickly stands. "I'll get your coat."

* * *

They don't stop cooking together, and eventually they perfect the art of cooking together and cooking actual good food.


	25. Day 25: Doing Something Hot

_**A/N: WARNING for sex again. This is the last one. Promise.**_

* * *

**Day 25 (Day 30): Doing Something Hot**

* * *

"Oh god..." John sighs. "That's good."

"Is it?"

John bites his lip and groans. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Well, of course, but-"

"Then stop asking and _keep going_."

* * *

It all started because of the stupid weather. Yesterday it was a nice temperature outside, Sherlock didn't even wear his coat all day. They didn't need to turn the heat on, as they usually do by this time of year, but since it was reasonably cool and warm at the same time, they left it off for another week or two.

By the time they woke up this morning, they were icicles. It was freezing. It was a cold that they thought would be warm by the afternoon, but it stayed cold all day. The sun was bright, but the breeze was cold. It was the type of weather that made you want to stay in bed all day.

Unfortunately, they couldn't, because Lestrade called with a case that kept them out of the cold flat all day. By the time they got home after dinner, it was still cold. They turned the heat up and took turns in the shower, then they met in bed for sleep.

That's when John said he was too cold to sleep.

"I want to sleep with your coat on," John had said over an hour ago.

"No. If one of us gets to, it's going to be me."

"Didn't your mother teach you to share?"

Sherlock snorted rudely. "That woman taught me no-"

"You say one bad thing about your mother and I'll kick you in the bollocks."

"Mmm," is all Sherlock replied.

They spent more minutes laying in the silence. Their feet rubbed together in a way that built heat between them, and finally they looked at each other in the dark and came to the same mind.

They darted at the same time, their mouths meeting in the middle and clashing full of teeth and lips.

"Ow-" John started to say before Sherlock attacked again, this time his lips soft against John's.

John sighed and Sherlock moaned, pushing John onto his back and climbing on top of him.

* * *

An hour later, they're in the same position, only now John is on his front and Sherlock is _still _finger fucking him, which he has been doing for nearly forty-five minutes.

Heat licks at their skin, and they're glad they're doing this because their body temperature has raised a significant amount since trying to sleep in the cold room. The heater is still on, but John has half the mind to get up to turn it off.

If was being warmed any other way than Sherlock's fingers up his arse, Sherlock's sweaty skin flush against his, and Sherlock's breath steaming up every bit of him that Sherlock's mouth can reach, he would.

John grinds back on Sherlock's hand. "What are you even doing back there?" he pants.

Sherlock shifts and John feels his breath now against the back of his thigh.

"Exploring," Sherlock says.

John groans. "Just fuck me, Sherlock..."

Sherlock hasn't yet. John penetrated him a few weeks ago, after Sherlock begged and John didn't even think about saying no, but Sherlock hasn't had the honor yet.

Sherlock kisses the small of John's back. "Are you sure?"

"God, if you don't then why the fuck else have you had your hand up there for almost an hour?!"

Sherlock chuckles. John sighs when he feels Sherlock's fingers vibrating inside him.

"Okay," Sherlock says after a few more minutes of twisting his fingers in and out of John. "I will. Condom?"

"No need," John says. "We just got tested, remember? We're good."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm not planning on fucking anyone else, are you?"

Sherlock gasps as if offended. "Of course not."

"Then _shut up _and get your cock in me!"

Sherlock pulls his fingers out and kisses up John's back. "Okay," he whispers in John's ear. "Turn over."

* * *

Sherlock, of course, has never felt anyone under him like this. Sure, they've gotten each other off by mutual hand jobs in this position, and he loves to suck John to completion while John is laying on his back sprawled over the bed, but never like _this. _Never has he ever been on top of someone, surrounded by the heat of their body on his really rather harder than pretty much _ever _dick. He's never felt this good.

"Oh, John..." he moans against John's mouth.

"Good, right?" John asks, his fingers tangled in Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock tightens his grip on John's hips and thrusts again. He groans low from the back of his throat and bites John's lip. It makes John tighten his arms around Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock tries his best to be good for John, to not only think of himself, so he rubs his hands over John's thighs, hips, up to his ribs and around shoulders. John's skin is burning against his; it feels like their bodies are being welded together with each thrust.

"I love you," Sherlock whispers.

"I love you too..." John gets out before a loud moan when Sherlock thrusts in as hard as he can.

Sherlock's ready to finish only minutes later, which isn't surprising to John. He pushes a hand between him and Sherlock, stroking in time with Sherlock's thrusts and eventually clenching tightly around Sherlock's cock and coming first. Sherlock follows seconds later, shoving up hard into John and digging his nails into John's skin as he comes and comes for what seems like forever.

* * *

They catch their breath and Sherlock falls off John, shifting to his side of the bed that's gone cool from not being used.

"Oh god," Sherlock sighs.

"Good?" John asks, reaching for a tissue to clean up.

"It's so _hot._"

John laughs. "You're hot? I just had someone on top of me for an hour."

"And that someone is _so hot_."

John cleans Sherlock up too because clearly Sherlock wasn't planning to do it himself.

"You're hot," John mutters.

"I am hot, my skin is absolutely burni-" Sherlock stops. "Oh. Oh you meant-"

"Sexy hot, yes."

Sherlock smiles. "You're hot too."

"Mmm," John sighs, hovering over Sherlock to give him a kiss.

Sherlock stops him. "I'm too hot!"

John laughs. "Alright, I'll turn the heat down. You straighten up the duvet because you're the one who is going to whine about being too cold later."

"If I get cold later, I'll just do you again."

"You can do yourself," John mutters as he exits their room.

"Rude!" Sherlock calls, settling on top of the duvet.

* * *

He does end up getting cold later in the night, but he just cuddles closer to John and continues sleeping.


	26. Day 26: Wearing Each Other's Clothes

_**A/N: The first thing is that I posted the first two chapters of my newest story on my brand new AO3 page. My username on it is the same as this, jamesgatz1925, so search for me and read it there a few days before it's up here. The second thing is...nothing. That's it. Go find me. **_

* * *

**Day 26 (Day 6): Wearing Each Other's Clothing**

* * *

It's still cold the next morning, so when Sherlock wakes up he slips on a t-shirt and underpants he finds on the floor. The shirt is a bit too big and the underpants are a size too loose, so obviously they're John's, but Sherlock doesn't bother finding his own. He smiles and goes to the kitchen to continue with what he woke up early for.

* * *

Breakfast. He doesn't do it much. He doesn't even like eating it (it's too salty, to milky, and there's way too much bread involved), but John does. And he's gotten a bit better at the cooking thing. It is easy when you follow the directions perfectly and cook things the way they should be cooked, so he gets to work making John a special breakfast.

He decides to make an omelette, because they went to the shop two days ago and have enough ingredients to make a proper omelette. And John loves omelettes.

He starts the tea while the egg is frying, and he gets even more excited for John's surprise.

* * *

When it's ready a few minutes later, he puts the plate and their tea on a tea tray to take to their bedroom.

He goes in quietly, but John is awake and wearing Sherlock's underpants now.

Sherlock grins when he spots the underpants. "You stole my pants."

John nods at Sherlock's lower half. "You stole mine first, love."

Sherlock smiles wider.

"Did you make me breakfast?" John asks, sitting up against the headboard.

"I did."

"I knew I loved you for a reason."

"Is that the only reason?" Sherlock asks, slipping into the bed next to John.

"Of course not," John takes a mug of tea and leans over to kiss Sherlock. "Also for the way you look in my clothes."

Sherlock chuckles into another kiss. "Your omelette is going to get cold."

"Mmm," John sounds, kissing Sherlock's collarbone that's peaking over the collar of the shirt.

Sherlock pushes John away. "Eat. I didn't slave away for nothing."

"Oh shush," John says, sitting back and taking the plate. "It didn't kill you."

"It nearly did."

"Right," John replies.

While John is eating, Sherlock rushes downstairs to get the newspaper off the front step.

"Did you go out there like that?!" John asks, referring to Sherlock's lack of trousers.

Sherlock shrugs. "Yeah, so?"

John shakes his head. "Nevermind."

Sherlock just smiles.

When John finishes his food, he lays the trays and mugs and plate on the floor and they decide not to leave the bed.

"Thank you for breakfast," John says, hugging Sherlock close.

"You're welcome," Sherlock says. "It was my pleasure."

"I loved it. I love _you._"

Sherlock smiles. "I love you, too."

John kisses him lightly.

They hold each other closer and eventually close their eyes to go back to sleep.

John, however, has a racing mind. He's thinking about how much he loves Sherlock, how much he needs Sherlock in his life, and how perfect they are together.

Suddenly, he can't stop himself from saying, "Sherlock, what would you say if I asked you to marry me?"

Sherlock doesn't stir at all. Not even his breathing speeds up, so John thinks he's asleep. But before John can forget about it and go to sleep himself, Sherlock answers.

"Yes."

John's heart stops.

"Yes, what?"

"I'd say yes."

John's arms reflexively tighten around Sherlock. He doesn't say anything else, he just closes his eyes to stop himself from crying or doing anything else ridiculous.

"Well?" Sherlock asks as few minutes later.

"Well, what?"

"Are you going to ask?"

John laughs. His throat catches and he feels tears. "Sherlock," he whispers. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes."

John strokes a hand over Sherlock's side, over his own t-shirt on lovely Sherlock's skin.

"Alright," John whispers.

He feels Sherlock smile against his bare chest. Then, John closes his eyes and goes back to sleep.


	27. Day 27: Getting Married

_**A/N: Again, I started an AO3. My username is the same as this, jamesgatz1925, and I've posted the (now) first three chapters of my newest story that isn't up on this yet. Find it find it find it! **_

_**Second, the next chapter is the last. It's only 28 days because I couldn't figure out how to write two days. So it'll be over tomorrow! Maybe the next day. Enjoy!**_

* * *

**Day 27 (Day 26): Getting Married**

* * *

They talk about getting married for weeks before they actually decide to set a date. Their conversations are short and sweet, with no plans being made until they decide to get serious about it.

Their conversations include:

"John, at our wedding can we not do that rice throwing thing?"

"Sure, love. Rice kills birds anyway."

"John, at our wedding do I have to wear a tie?"

"Not if you don't want to. I won't mind if you don't."

"John, can we have chocolate cake at our wedding?"

"Sure. Anything you like."

"John, do we have to invite my brother to our wedding?!"

"If you don't want to, you don't have to, but you'll regret it."

"John, can we have bees at our wedding."

"Of course."

The list of requests go on and on until Mrs. Hudson hands them a pad of paper and pen and simply says, "Plan!" And they do.

* * *

They set the date for April 12, when the weather will be good enough that they'll only need light jackets instead of heavy coats. They make a list of guests, consisting of only Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, Lestrade, very few people from the Yard, more people from John's clinic, Molly, Angelo, Mike, Sherlock's parents, and John's sister. They want a small ceremony to be held at a small park and the reception at Angelo's restaurant, to which he gladly agrees.

They do get chocolate cake, of course, and Sherlock does decide to wear a tie for John.

* * *

On the morning of their wedding, they both wake refreshed and excited.

"I thought we weren't supposed to see each other on wedding day," Sherlock says when they wake up. "Another pointless tradition, I assume?"

"Well, I've never understood it. It's supposedly bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding, but I guess it does't count for us since neither of us is a bride."

"Ahh," Sherlock says, wrapping his arms around John. "Are you happy?"

"Of course. Are you?"

"Yes."

"You're ready for this?"

"Yes, I am. I never thought I would be, but...I really am."

"That's good, love."

"Mmm."

John looks over Sherlock's head at the bedside table clock. "We have four hours before we need to be at the park. What do you want to do until then?"

Sherlock grins. "I have an idea."

"I think I have the same idea," John replies.

"Mmm," Sherlock sounds again, this time leaning in to kiss John.

* * *

They get to the park fully dressed and ready to go at noon. The ceremony is to be half an hour later, and they arrive at the same time as a few guests.

Molly is one of the firsts ones there.

"Molly, you look lovely," John says as she approaches them. "Doesn't she, Sherlock?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes," Sherlock quickly says, not paying attention at all.

"I didn't think I'd be happy for you, but I am," Molly says. She gasps. "Oh gosh, I didn't mean to say that!"

John laughs. "It's alright. We're glad you could make it."

Molly smiles weakly and leaves to get a seat.

* * *

At 12:30 they're ready to go, so Sherlock and John stand up by the minister looking proud of where they're currently standing.

They exchange their own written vows, both words of love and promise of lifelong commitment. Sherlock adds that he'll keep the experimenting on his new husband to a minimum, and John promises to be more patient with experiments. Everyone laughs, but neither man notices anyone around them but his groom.

It ends with a kiss, of course. It's short, sweet, exactly perfect to seal their love for each other. They feel amazing and happy and excited, and as they're walking down the isle at the end, a bee flies into the flower pinned to Sherlock's lapel. He giddily grins, and John leans over to kiss his cheek.

"I love you," John whispers.

"I love you too," Sherlock says back.


	28. Day 28: Dancing

_**A/N: Last day! Yay! Maybe I'll find another 30 Day Challenge somewhere. Thanks for following along! Look out for my newest story that I'll be uploading here in a few days. Thanks! **_

* * *

**Day 28 (Day 20): Dancing **

* * *

Their wedding reception at Angelo's goes by quickly. All of their guests are excited, happy, drinking far too much wine, and they leave at a reasonable hour. This makes John and Sherlock happy, of course, for they just want to get to their hotel suite as soon as possible. They want some time for themselves.

They leave Angelo's and decide to walk as far as they can before they get cold and need to get a cab. They stroll hand in hand, their suit jackets open, their buttons coming undone, and their skin flushed because of all the wine they drank. They practically fly down the sidewalk, just so happy to be finally married.

* * *

John starts it. With Sherlock's fingers laced in his, he begins to swing his arm and Sherlock's between them. He swings to no tune, just an excited beat in his own head that Sherlock soon catches on to and joins in their swinging.

"I'm so happy, Sherlock," John says.

"Me too, John," Sherlock replies, then he leans over and kisses John lightly.

Soon, they approach another restaurant that is alive and kicking this late in the evening. John smiles widely; the music playing is loud and entertaining, many people inside the restaurant are dancing.

John looks over at Sherlock and grins.

Sherlock lifts an eyebrow. "What?"

John stops right in front of the restaurant and turns to Sherlock. He grabs the hand he wasn't holding and hoists it above their shoulders.

"Oh, John..." Sherlock sighs. "Why?"

"Because it's my wedding day. We did not dance at our reception. I want to dance with my new husband."

Sherlock sighs again. Dramatically. "Alright," he says, placing his other hand on John's shoulder.

John smiles widely and places a hand on Sherlock's hip. Then, they begin to sway together with the rhythm of the music inside. It's not a slow or fast song, it's just the right pace for them to intimately dance on the street.

They don't notice there are people on the street watching, they don't even notice when people start to clap towards the end of the song. All they care about is the heat between them, their bodies touching, the swaying, the smile on the other's face, and the butterflies in their stomachs.

"I love you," John whispers.

"I love you too," Sherlock says. "I'm very happy, John. Are you?"

"Yes, of course. I'm happy to be dancing with you."

"Me too."

John kisses Sherlock deeply, still swaying on the street, and then they hear someone whistle.

"Ehh! Get a room!" someone yells. A lot of people in the restaurant outside seating laughs.

John and Sherlock both start to laugh as they pull apart.

"Come on love," John says, stepping back but not letting go of Sherlock's hand. "Hotel now?"

Sherlock grins. "After you."


End file.
